


He likes bees.

by sootonthecarpet



Series: Russian Holmes fics that are all in one verse [2]
Category: Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (TV Russia)
Genre: Bees & Beekeeping, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Retirement, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootonthecarpet/pseuds/sootonthecarpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're only jealous of all my bee friends!" Holmes said.</p><p>"That man is dead," Watson pointed out. "And the bees killed him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	He likes bees.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not an apiologist. Sorry if something's horribly horribly wrong.

It was the sort of chilly late-Spring night where Watson was tempted to get out his heavy blanket, which he had put away only a few weeks ago. He was rather tired, so this time he did so, curling up under it quite contentedly with the intention to sleep late.

This fate was cruelly denied. The vaguely defined but strong sensation of being stared at almost woke him, and a clammy fingertip prodding his face finished the job. He awoke with a sound somewhere between a yelp and a squeak. Holmes smiled down at him far too benevolently. "Watson, you're in luck. Finally you have a chance to get me to go to the country! Although, I fear, I shall not be resting."

"Oh," he said, blinking. "Is it a murder...?"

"No one is entirely certain yet. Come on, get dressed and pack your bags..."

Watson sat up and shivered a little. "Must you wake me before sunrise?"

"I was going to get you to come along last night, but I thought I should let you sleep first."

"Holmes, it is four in the morning."

"And our train leaves at six. This leaves us an hour or so to eat breakfast," he explained with a cheerful smile.

Watson groaned. "My shoulder is paining me this morning, or believe me, I would take one of those weapons down from my wall and attack you with it."

Holmes laughed, and then Watson did too.

 

 

It had been a bit of an awkward incident. The man had turned out to be dead after all--he escaped an attempted murder, only to blunder head-first into a beehive in the dark, knocking it down. He was stung by several bees, and suffered an allergic reaction which had killed him.

Holmes was explaining this to Watson as they both stared at the rather disconcerted looking cloud of bees surrounding the corpse.

"--upon which he suffered an allergic reaction, and expired," Holmes finished with a sweeping hand gesture. Watson nodded attentively.

"How are we to verify this, Holmes?"

"By moving closer to the body, of course," Holmes said, giving Watson a look.

Watson made a confused gesture. "But, bees."

"And...?"

"They're probably going to attack us if we get any nearer. Look, that one is eyeing me threateningly already."

"Bees don't eye people threateningly. The very notion is absurd."

"I still don't want to move nearer if it can be avoided."

Holmes sighed. "This from the man who faced down swamp adders?"

"There was one of them. Swamp adders don't _swarm_."

"There's nothing to be worried about. Here, look at this." He stepped forward slowly, entirely relaxed. The bees simply ignored him, even as he stepped up to the dead man. Holmes crouched by him.

"You should come over here, Watson. I need you to diagnose his cause of death."

"Can't we wait for the bees to clear off?"

Holmes looked around sadly. He plucked a dead, stinger-less bee from where it lay on the man, and held it sombrely in the palm of his hand, looking at the wreckage of the beehive.

"They won't be clearing off for a while. Their home has been wrecked," he said, standing and returning to Watson. He held out the dead bee. "One of many. A sacrificial act of misguided self-defence."

Watson frowned sympathetically. Holmes walked back into the cloud of bees and set the bee back to its precise location on the dead man.

"Come here, Watson, please."

Watson looked at him sceptically.

"Do come on."

He walked forward, all of him quite tense and nervous, and knelt by Holmes.

"Definitely anaphylaxis," he said after only a quick glance at the man. "Now please excuse me." He got up and walked away form the bees and breathed much easier.

Holmes frowned at him. "Why don't you like the bees?"

"They hurt."

"They aren't stinging me, or anything. Look," he said, holding out his arms. A bee landed on the back of his hand. "Oh, hello," he said to it, bringing his hand slowly closer. Watson put the flat of his palm to his forehead.

"This is becoming absurd."

"You're only jealous of all my bee friends!" Holmes said as a few more bees landed on him. Then he cleared his throat. "The poor things haven't got a home any more." He sighed.

"That man is dead," Watson pointed out. "And the bees killed him."

"It was self-defence, Watson. If a gigantic creature attacked London, wouldn't you take your gun and shoot it?"

Watson paused, and then nodded.

"Now stop holding grudges against the creatures. You're making them nervous."

Watson flung up his hands in surrender. "I'm going to fetch the police," he said, walking off.

 

 

"There!" Holmes exclaimed proudly, arms extended in triumph. Watson looked at the tiny apiary.

"It seems a bit out of place," he said.

"I couldn't just leave them, Watson."

Watson shrugged.

"Now they can continue their lives as usual."

"Can we go home now?"

"Fine," Holmes muttered. He waved goodbye to the beehive and the two men walked away.

 

 

By his counting, which was never wrong, it had been two years, three months, and... some imprecise number of days since Watson had been there last.

He heard someone knock on the door quite a distance away, and pulled his quilt over his head. "I don't want to speak to anyone," he said in a weak voice to nothing but the walls. "Go away."

There was a bee in the room. It had flown in through the open window. Holmes never bothered to shut it during the warmer months any more, he preferred to have the bees with him for company even with the drafts that were the result.

After several minutes, a voice floated up from beneath the open window.

"Holmes, I would quite like to be let in," said a voice that was so familiar, Holmes chose to assume it was a delusion.

"Go awayyyy," he said.

"Holmes, I'm not leaving until we have at least one pleasant conversation," Watson insisted.

Holmes blinked a little and sat up, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes as they were gritty from sleeping. He stood and went to the window, looking down. "It _is_ Watson," he said, aloud but more to himself.

"Of course it is. Holmes, let me in or I shall be forced to attempt to scale this wall. At my age, it is highly inadvisable!" he added.

"I'll let you in," Holmes said. To his surprise, he felt much stronger already. He pulled on his dressing gown and went downstairs, then pulled open the door. They looked at each other for several seconds. Holmes flung his arms around Watson excitedly.

"What?" Watson said in an exhale, wrapping his arms back around Holmes.

"I've missed you. I assumed you weren't coming back."

"Actually, um, Holmes...?"

Holmes nodded, curiously.

"I'm old enough that I've been considering planning a retirement, and Mary's been talking about the country. I was wondering if you knew some place nearby that we might move into...?"

Holmes hugged him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an apology for that last one. Sorry, Basil.
> 
> Title comes from the phrase, "I like bees, bees are cool," which I often say.


End file.
